


-is caring

by extrasolar (hearthope)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, i mean it's just fluff isn't it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:18:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearthope/pseuds/extrasolar
Summary: Yaku doesn't share.  Anything.  Especially with Kuroo.





	-is caring

Yaku doesn’t share. This is simply a matter of fact that Tetsurou has known from the start. He won’t share his jacket if you’re cold (not that it’s big enough to fit half the team anyway), won’t share his food regardless as to how nicely you ask or the favors you offer to do in return for just _one bite,_ come on, sharing is caring and _strawberry’s my favorite flavor you know that—_ He might share his water after a particularly grueling practice, but only if your name happens to be Kenma.

  


Tetsurou’s not sure if there’s a legitimate reason for it, or if it’s just that Yaku likes telling people — especially him — _no._ He wouldn’t be surprised either way.

  


For the better part of their first two years at Nekoma, Tetsurou tries to get even a morsel of _anything_ from him. Mostly out of spite, he supposes. Yaku can’t turn him down forever. But there’s also a part of him that likes getting a rise out of Yaku. Something in the increasingly heated words as he tries and fails to shove Tetsurou away every time he asks for anything is . . . entertaining? Not the right word, probably, but either way, he can’t stop himself from pestering Yaku over every little thing.

  


Tetsurou’s kind of settled on the fact that he’ll never get a yes out of Yaku by the time they hit their third year. It doesn’t stop him from asking, but it’s become less of a game. Tetsurou’s not tired of it — it’s not any less amusing (still not the right word for it, but less wrong) to witness Yaku’s reaction. It’s just quieter now. Less shouting, more dirty looks, snorting laughter on Tetsurou’s end. It’s less game and more routine. Which is just as well, when it comes down to it.

  


He still asks, regularly. Any time Yaku picks up juice or a snack when they’re walking to the train from practice, or when they’re at their training camp and Yaku’s hogging all the blankets. He asks, sometimes tries to make a grab at whatever it is, and Yaku always tells him no, gives him the _look_ Tetsurou’s all too familiar with, gives him a half-hearted shove he doesn’t really mean. Tetsurou always laughs and settles for swinging an arm around Yaku’s shoulders and carrying on.

  


There’s a comfort in it. Something familiar.

  


Tetsurou snatches a grape from Yaku’s lunch one afternoon before he can stop him and all that comes to mind when Yaku starts swatting at him is _cute._ (That’s the word. That’s the one he’s been looking for.)

  


Sometimes Tetsurou comments on the fact that, as much as Yaku hates sharing with other people, he sure has no issue taking things from other people. He won’t offer Tetsurou a sip of water between sets in a match, but he’ll grab a handful of chips from Tetsurou’s bag when they’re out shopping on the weekend, or tug on Tetsurou’s jacket without bothering to ask when he gets cold. Not that Tetsurou really minds, but it’s the principle of it.

  


Regardless, though, it’s not like it matters. For as much as Yaku seems to get off on telling Tetsurou _no,_ Tetsurou doesn’t think it’s possible to tell him the same.

  


A few times, Tetsurou thinks he’s actually going to get lucky. A small handful of moments where Yaku looks like he’s actually considering handing over his tea, or making room under his blanket, or passing one of his earbuds to him, before his eyes narrow and his lips twist up and Tetsurou receives nothing but a _you wish._

  


That is, until—

  


They’re on the brink of their final tournament of their high school career. Three years spent together, growing better and stronger and closer together, all leading up to this last set of matches. Tetsurou can’t help but wonder what’s going to come after. When there aren’t more practices for them to attend, no more training camps or late evenings spent tucked together around Kai’s phone watching tournament clips.

  


He says as much to Kenma, who only tells him he’s overthinking it.

  


He says as much to Yaku, who only says, “You act like we only revolve around volleyball.”

  


Tetsurou gives him a sidelong glance. “When else do I see any of you?”

  


Yaku snorts. “What are we doing now?” he asks. He gestures his arms in a wide circle at the street around them. “I don’t see a volleyball around.”

  


“It _counts,”_ Tetsurou argues, “because we’re walking _from volleyball practice.”_

  


“Are you saying we can’t still walk to the station together when it’s not after practice? You’re going to cut all ties the second we’re done with the tournament?”

  


To Tetsurou’s other side, Kenma snorts. Which, not helping.

  


“Are _you?”_ Tetsurou says.

  


Yaku quirks an eyebrow. “We’re not just teammates, you know. We’re friends, or whatever. Obviously we’ll still see each other, even if it’s not in the gym. You’re so dumb.”

  


Tetsurou doesn’t even try to stop his grin, and swings an arm around Yaku’s shoulders, leaning his full weight into him despite his protests. “Yakkun, I’m your _friend?_ That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  


“Shut up,” Yaku says, shoving at him. But there’s no real push behind it. “You— Astaxanthin.”

  


“It’s _docosohexaenoic acid_ , thanks.”

  


Yaku narrows his eyes, and before Tetsurou can actually start laughing, he shoves a hunk of his milk bread into his mouth and starts walking off, trying to catch up with Kenma.

  


Tetsurou watches, frozen for half a breath before he takes the milk bread in his hand and jogs to catch up, knocking his shoulder into Yaku’s. “I thought you weren’t going to share.” Yaku scowls, and Tetsurou grins. “I knew you loved me.”

  


“You’re a _pest.”_

  


“I’m your _friend.”_

  


Yaku quits trying to fight back, only leans his shoulder into Tetsurou’s and, a couple blocks later, hands over another small piece of his bread.

  


Tetsurou silently chalks Yaku’s blush up to the cold, and his own to having on too many layers to fight it.

**Author's Note:**

> there are like eighteen different reasons i had to write this and all of them are riin


End file.
